


Something Different

by uistic



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Dominance, M/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Submission, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uistic/pseuds/uistic
Summary: I swear I don't know what happened. I wanted to write Seth topping Dean for a change and, yeah, that didn't go quite as planned.Pure filth.





	Something Different

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I don't know what happened. I wanted to write Seth topping Dean for a change and, yeah, that didn't go quite as planned.
> 
> Pure filth.

Seth's got him pushed face up against the wall, body's flush against his, and Dean's keeping his palms splayed against the wall, feeling the indentations and ridges of the tactile wallpaper under his fingertips. "We're doing something different tonight."

"Yeah?”

There are a lot of things Dean didn't know before he met Seth. That you can love and hate a person in equal measure, both at the same time. That vengeance can suffuse you, fill you up, and then burn itself out, so that all you have left is this ironic, ironclad attraction, a desire to hurt and be hurt, love and be loved. Most of all, he didn't know how much fun it could be to let someone else call the shots for a while.

"Mm-hm." Seth catches his earlobe between his teeth, tugging. It sends a shiver down Dean's spine. One hand slides down to cup his dick through the jeans. "I'm getting off. You're not.”

Dean huffs a laugh that's just on this side of breathless. "Yeah? Where's the fun in that?”

"I've got my hand on your dick, Ambrose. You're really going to pretend it doesn't excite you?" 

He can think of half a dozen things to say to that, that he’s just responding to Seth's touch or the half mast pressing against his ass, but that would make him a liar and he figures one in the room is enough. "I'll just jerk off the moment you walk out the door."

"No." Seth sounds so damn smug. Like he's got Dean right under his thumb. 

"Why the hell not?"

"Because if you touch your dick before I say you can, we're never playing this particular game again."

Dean laughs. His nails are digging crescents into the wallpaper. He squirms, seeking friction, and Seth bites the side of his neck, hand squeezing his dick lightly through the denim. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He can feel Seth's smile against his skin. He pulls up Dean's tank top, hands finding burning skin underneath. The sharp nails Dean expects never come, the touch remaining gentle, exploring. Usually they'd have their pants by their knees by now, fucking against the wall or over the desk. He turns his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Seth's face, see where he's at. "So how are you getting off?"

Seth smiles again and kisses Dean's shoulder with just a hint of teeth. "Slowly. While you're dying of envy."

It's so very Seth that Dean almost laughs again, but right then Seth slides a thigh between his legs, making him gasp at the pressure. "Fuck, Seth."

"You gotta call Roman? Tell him you're not coming out tonight?" There's a cruel edge in Seth's voice. He grinds his thigh against Dean's crotch, and Dean squirms, unable to tell if it's more painful or pleasurable. 

Dean shakes his head, curling his hands into fists. "He's - _fuck_ \- busy. Seth-"

"Too busy for you, huh? Did he take his merch a little too literally? One against all doesn't leave much room for brothers."

The words are mostly just noise, Seth virtually unable to play nice, clinging to his asshole persona like one moment of kindness would undo everything he's worked so hard for. Dean can respect that. He knows all about fronting and gimmicks and becoming what you pretend to be. 

"There's slowly and there's goddamn glacial," Dean manages to say, and Seth laughs. 

"All right." Seth lets go and steps back so suddenly that Dean’s left blinking. When he turns around, Seth is spreading his arms like he's up on the turnbuckle about to do a phoenix splash. "Undress me."

Dean starts with Seth's belt, opening it and pulling it out of its hoops. Seth said slowly, so slowly it is. He runs the belt through his hands, coils it and lays it aside before he reaches for the buttons of Seth's shirt. 

"Don't touch," Seth cautions.

Dean rolls his eyes. "I know the fucking rules, don't I? Was there when you made 'em."

His fingers never brush against skin as he strips Seth of his clothes. Shirt first, before he kneels down to take off he shoes, socks and jeans, folding them and putting them away. Seth's body is ridiculous, even in a business where physical perfection is the baseline. He's aware of it too, so Dean makes no effort to hide how much he enjoys the sight of it. He pauses with his hands hovering over the edge of his boxers, looking up for permission.

Seth's eyes are dark, his face flushed. His hair’s already getting frizzy, and Dean loves that exactly as much as it drives Seth nuts. "Yeah, go on." Seth's hoarse, like the sight of Dean kneeling at his feet really does it for him. Which is kind of weird, but whatever. Seth does it for Dean in any position and who's to say that's any less strange, given what they've been through?

It's not easy, getting the boxers off without touching skin, but Dean's a goddamned genius, isn't he? As naked and unselfconscious as the day he was born, Seth goes to get something from his bag. Dean stands up, enjoying the view. It should give him an edge, being clothed while Seth is naked, but Seth wears his arrogance like armor and only smiles a little when he sees Dean's eyes on him.

"Here." He tosses over a little bottle for Dean to catch. 

Dean expects lube and is surprised to see massage oil. His eyebrows rise. "Really?"

"Yup." Seth climbs the bed and settles on his stomach.

"Are we talking backrub here? Or a full body massage?" Either way, Dean can't say he minds the prospect of putting his hands all over a very naked Seth.

"Full body."

" _Full_ body full body?" Dean leers as he gets up on the bed, straddling Seth's ass with knees on either side of his ribcage.

Seth sighs and shoots Dean an annoyed glance over his shoulder. ”Isn’t that what I said?”

”Sure, sure. Just checking.” He pushes Seth’s head down against the mattress, more playful than rough, then pours oil in his hands and rubs them together to warm it. This isn’t exactly what he expected when Seth texted him his room number earlier, but unexpected doesn’t mean bad. He runs his hands over Seth’s shoulders and down his back, working the tension out of the muscles. Seth relaxes under his hands, little by little, and once he’s done with both arms the hands are loose and open, palms up, and Seth is breathing deeply.

Dean slides down a little, getting to work on Seth’s ass. He’s rewarded with an appreciative groan. It’s a damn nice ass and he takes his time with it, squeezing and rubbing until Seth’s breathing goes shallow and he starts squirming. When Dean slips a hand between Seth’s thighs he spreads his legs eagerly, allowing Dean to part his ass cheeks in a way that is far more intimate and sexual than anything that would happen at a real, professional massage table. Dean circles his hole, listening for the hitch of breath. He’s tempted to eat Seth out until he’s loose and wet and eager, but he’s starting to see the allure of taking it slow. When he moves on to Seth’s thighs, Seth makes a noise of complaint.

”What’s that, baby?”

Seth huffs and says nothing, but he keeps grinding against the bed in slow little circles, like he thinks Dean won’t notice or maybe doesn’t care if he does. His skin is glistening, slick with oil, his legs spread like an open invitation. 

”Fuck, Seth,” he says, all hoarse and dry-mouthed. "You should see yourself. Or maybe you shouldn’t, your ego’s big enough as it is already.” Even though Seth doesn’t respond, Dean sees him crack a smile at the words. Once Dean is done, he plants a kiss on the sole of Seth’s foot and puts it down gently. ”All right, babe. Roll over.”

Seth obeys wordlessly. He's fully hard now, his dick having left a smear of precum on his stomach. He looks dazed, flushed and ready, and Dean’s not even halfway done. He moves up along Seth’s legs, forcing himself to go as slow as he can stand. Seth's hands are gripping the blankets and he keeps wetting his lips and swallowing. When Dean reaches the top of his thighs and his fingertips grazes his balls, Seth stops breathing for a moment.

”Hey now, that’s no good,” Dean teases, running two fingers across Seth’s asshole, watching the muscles in his thighs twitch. ”You’re supposed to relax.”

”Dean, come _on_ ,” Seth says, flexing his hands, and damn if that doesn’t sound a lot like pleading. Who would have thought?

”Not done yet. You wanted it slow, yeah?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Seth nods. Like he’s acquiescing. And hey, there’s another thing Dean hadn’t known - how painfully hard his dick becomes at the thought of Seth surrendering. 

Dean pours more oil in is hands and starts rubbing it over Seth’s chiseled abs. ”God, babe. If wrestling ever falls through for you, you should go back to doing porn. You have any idea what people would pay to hear you moan? To see that flush on your cheeks, or your lips all swollen and wet from kissing, and your cock. Damn.” He grinds his ass back against Seth’s dick, relishing the gasp it draws. ”Yeah. Like that, baby. Pure fucking filth right there.”

Seth squirms. ”All right, come on, enough already.” 

”You sure? I haven’t done your face yet. Or your scalp. Or-”

”I swear to god Dean, if you don’t put your hands on my dick-”

Dean laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender. ”Hey, just checking. Don’t want you go making decisions you’re gonna regret.” He moves over, pulling up Seth’s legs and settling between his thighs. Once more, he pours oil in his hands, and then cups Seth’s balls with one hand as he wraps the other around the shaft, stroking firmly. 

”Holy shit,” Seth gasps and bucks his hips. ”God. Fuck. _Damn_.”

Dean lets one hand slide down to play with Seth’s rim, and the curses transform into a needy whine that turns Dean’s blood into molten rock. This is Seth like Dean’s never seen him, desperate and frustrated and out of control, trying to simultaneously fuck up into Dean’s fist and press back against his fingers, hands tearing at the blankets like he’s afraid of what he’ll do if he lets go. Dean thinks of self-discipline, control, rising above, being better, being stronger, needing no one and nothing, and all the other ideals Seth still clings to long after he gave up stuff like friendship and brotherhood and courage and integrity and honor, and it occurs to him that maybe this is something Seth's wanted but never known how to ask for.

”Hey,” Dean says, letting his voice grow sharp. ”Hands.”

Seth blinks up at him, confused.

”Above your head. I’m going to pin you down. And then I’m going to put two fingers up your ass, and you’re going to fuck yourself on them like a good boy. Objections?”

He’s not sure, not at all. It could go either way, this sudden role-reversal. Seth’s eyes widen, breath catching in his throat, and then he licks his lips and raises his hands obediently, gaze not leaving Dean’s for a second. The room is hot enough that Dean can feel his clothes sticking to his body and the sweat run down his back and burn in his eyes.

”Good.” He grabs Seth’s wrists harder than he has to. ”That’s a good boy.”

The praise makes Seth shudder and swallow visibly. He’s perfectly still, only his chest heaving as he stares at Dean with something a little bit like wonder and something a little bit like fear. His lips move, shaping a soundless word that looks a lot like please.

Dean pushes two fingers into him, none too gently, and Seth’s eyes almost roll back into his head. The low and guttural sound he makes is unreal. Then, without prompting, he starts to fuck himself on the fingers, and it’s the hottest thing Dean’s ever seen. ”Fuck, Seth. You were made for this, weren’t you? Such a greedy little boy. C’mon, show me how much you want it. That’s it, go get it, you’re so damn good at taking what you need. And you need this, don’t you?”

Seth looks wrecked, his asshole clenching tight around Dean’s fingers, his calves and thighs working as he lifts himself up and then pushes down, over and over. His abs quiver. His lips keep shaping the same silent word, face twisting in frustration.

”What, baby? You gotta speak up, I can’t hear you.”

”I gotta- it’s not enough, god, _please_ -” Seth chokes off, looking mortified, but not mortified enough to even pause his efforts to get off.

”I’d fuck you,” Dean says, and the way Seth’s face light up is insane, ”-I’d love to, but I kinda remember you saying I wasn’t getting off tonight.”

Seth stares at him like he’d forgotten. He probably had. Then he laughs, a little broken but mostly just like he can’t believe this is happening. ”Fuck me.” He says it like an order, and Dean kind of likes that, how Seth can go from begging one second to issuing orders the next.

”Really? I mean, it’s something different for sure, but-”

”Fuck. Me.” It’s a growl, and Dean feels his eyebrows climb towards his hairline. ”Get your fucking dick in me right now or I’ll, I’ll, I’ll-”

”Baby.” Dean pulls out his fingers, ignoring Seth’s disappointed whine, and leans forward and kisses him lightly. ”All you had to do was ask.”


End file.
